made up of women who get together and plan how to influence the male vote! You must have heard their slogan,” she gently chided, “ ‘One Man, One Vote; One Woman, One Throat’? It’s meant to remind women that their one opinion can influence the vote of many men.”
“Never heard of it,” I admitted candidly. “I take it this is part of the suffragist movement Sarah participated in?”
“Only loosely.” She laughed again. “First, you must realize I am a relative newcomer to these efforts, which actually were started many years back by a group of women who were disgusted by the political graft and scandal that pervade the Tammany machine.”
“Fair enough,” I said, and waited for her to continue as we crossed the next block, sidestepping a man with a pushcart. As yesterday’s election had once again illustrated, Tammany Hall was remarkably effective in putting specific candidates in office—and controlling them once there. They were largely motivated by their own interests, not those of their constituents.
Isabella went on. “I joined the group back in 1901, to support Seth Low’s campaign for mayor as well as generalized reforms in education, tax, and sanitation. The larger goal, of course, was to break the hold of Tammany on local politicians that kept such reforms from actually happening. That’s why the ladies’ group supported Low again in ’03, and Hearst this fall.”
But Low hadn’t won a second term, and even Hearst’s money and popular support hadn’t been enough to break the Tammany stranglehold. Reform came in cycles, while Tammany maintained consistent political control.
Still, I empathized with Isabella’s sentiments. I had to, on some level, for I owed my profession itself to President Roosevelt’s reform efforts ten years earlier. When he took over as police commissioner, he had mandated that rookie police officers be hired on the basis of admission tests, not political patronage. I had passed the test with ease, whereas I would have lacked both the money and connections necessary to gain admittance through patronage.
“General reform is a positive goal,” I said mildly, “but it sounds as though Sarah was exclusively interested in gaining the vote.”
“Yes. And reading between the lines of what Mary said, I suspect Sarah would have felt my group’s methods were ineffectual. I’m not sure but that she wasn’t right,” Isabella said. “The ladies’ committees want to effect change—but only within our current system, as it is currently set up. Someone like Sarah thinks our existing way of doing things is untenable. She didn’t want to work within the status quo; she wanted to create a new social and political order.”
Isabella tossed her empty bag into the garbage as we crossed to the other side of Broadway and turned around once more as we searched for Alistair.
“The group Sarah eventually joined has always been more radical in their goals as well as their methods: They believe women deserve their own vote, and they’re not afraid to put on a demonstration or occupy a campus building to publicize their cause.”
“What’s your opinion?” I knew this question was in no way related to the case. I simply was finding myself more and more curious about Isabella Sinclair.
“As you might guess, I’m no radical,” she said. “But I also like the practical appeal of women’s club work to change our surroundings right now, not five or ten years down the road when suffragist activity may eventually gain women the vote. I joined a ladies’ committee and supported Seth Low because I wanted cleaner streets now.”
“And would you say his administration effected much improvement?” I couldn’t resist teasing, for we had just passed one of the legacies of Seth Low’s brief tenure in office two years ago: a whitewing, one of the city’s street sweepers who wore a uniform that was completely white from hat to trousers. This man seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace, picking up garbage by hand and dumping it into the large wooden barrel that he wheeled. He was ill equipped to combat the heavy litter and horse manure covering Broadway.
“Well, at least Low tried to do something when he was mayor,” she said, laughing in response, “but there’s still lots of room for improvement, wouldn’t you say?” More soberly, she added, “In the end, no real change was accomplished. That’s why I don’t attend the meetings anymore. That, and the fact that Alistair’s projects can demand so much of one’s time.”
“Yet I gather that working with Alistair is your choice,” I hazarded. The question of why